Never Again: Olaf's Story
by Sugary Snicket
Summary: The story of the Count's childhood, from teenage to adulthood, from Olaf's point of view. Rated T for abuse, arsony, and cutting references. Incredibly, woefully out of date, and it has been ever since Book 12 came out.
1. Prolouge

_I Know_ _what you're thinking: Sugary Snicket has finally lost her marbles, because now she's writing a story about Olafs childhood. I nave one thing to say to you: I have NOT lost my marbles, I just suddenly had this random thought about Olaf's childhood, like, what if his parents beat him or something, _so _he ran away? What if VFD found him and recruited him, and that's how he got that tattoo on his left ankle? Then what if, after several years of fighting fires, he starts thinking that maybe fire isn t the enemy, and goes bad? This story will end with him burning a certain mansion that three certain children lived in to the ground. Because of this, I feel compelled to tell you one thing: this story does not have a happy beginning, middle, OR ending. This story is about young Olaf, and his own personal series of unfortunate events._

_Disclaimer: Olaf is not mine, He is Lemony Snicket's. Come to think of it, this fanfic also belongs to him, 'cause his characters are in it……_

Prologue

It has been said that there is a grain of good in all evil, and the same is true with me. Yeah, sure I've done some bad things over the past few years, tearing families apart and ruining their lives, but even as you read this document, you cannot imagine what I have gone through. Believe it or not, I was once a teenager, struggling to remain worthy among my popular peers, trying not to be overlooked just because I was the runt of the litter, having skipped both second and third grade, and was not very athletic for my age. In fact, the torment of my schoolmates and parents hurting me, emotionally and physically, is why I am where I am today. Maybe I should go back a few years and explain myself. Perhaps if I show you what it was like, you would understand. I will take you back before the beginning; before the Baudelaires and fires, and before I even knew what VFD stood for; before I was lied to. I will show you everything.

_Uh, yeah, Olaf, you do that……_


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: …….Uh, Esm'e and Olaf 4EVA! _

* * *

Chapter one

I suppose the trouble really started when I was fourteen. I was a freshman in high school, and had some trouble with math and science, but in English - watch out! My teachers loved to have me in class, but my classmates weren't as tolerant. They thought that, because my historic knowledge was so advanced, I should have always gotten straight A's, and whenever it occurred that I got an A- or B, I was automatically a retard. They always bothered me for help on their history reports, and when they didn't they pressured me to do their homework for them.

My life at home was worse. Every night my parents would fight and squabble, sending me to bed in order to fight more, and leaving me wondering why I didn't have a family that was calm and quiet. Soon, my parents became angry with me for meddling in their affairs, and my mother got fed up and left, never to return. My father was not as kind, and whenever I said something that could possibly make him mad or upset, he yelled at me. When I started crying, he told me that I was being "Too dramatic", and I believed him. It seemed like my life was some kind of strange story, woven by a madman bent on ruining me for good. I needed to find a sanctuary, some place where I could be alone, without peer pressure and angry guardians, and I needed something to do.

For this reason, when I noticed a poster in my school hall advertising a drama club, I felt that maybe if I were among people who were used to being "Too dramatic", I might just become a bit more loved in the eyes of my peers. Maybe if I could make some friends - was so clumsy on my first day that NOBODY wanted to be associated with me in any way - would seem more normal. I was wrong.

* * *

_Yah….. Short chappie…. I know….. Most of them are……_


	3. Chapter 2

_In which Sugary Snicket gets to act very, very evil…._

Chapter two

It turned out that drama club was for "nerds" at my school, and even though the drama club leader loved my talents, and gave me all of the best male - and some female, occasionally - roles, the other students would try to boo me off stage, and my father refused to even come to one of my skits or plays. Soon, I was making up shows of my own, begging the director to put on at least one of them. Finally, he agreed to put on a small skit entitled "The Solar System", one of my favorite topics to study. I obtained the part of the Sun, and I remember how smug I felt then, as my fellow actors and actresses played the planets and walked around me in large circles.

This feeling soon left me. One day, at school, a group of bullies thought it would be funny to stuff me back into the sun outfit and suspend me from a ceiling fan. I thought that they were kidding as they did so, but found out that they were going to leave me there and blame me for putting on the suit and suspending myself from the ceiling. Their plan worked, causing me to get expelled and my father to get angrier.

That night, I saw a side of my father that I never wanted to see again. That night, he started to talk with me in a calm manner, as if he were just wondering why I had gotten expelled. I explained my side, but he thought that I was making excuses, and when I pleaded for him to believe me, he pushed me to the ground. Stunned by his sudden display of anger, I asked him why he had hurt me. He responded by telling me that he was tired of my questions, then yanked me off of the ground and struck me across the face hard, as if I were some kind of punching bag.

Feeling the raw red mark that stung like fire, I asked why he had done that, my courage eventually fading and being replaced by cold fear. He did not answer, but told me to shut up and pushed me into the kitchen table.

By now I was crying and asking him to stop, but every time I spoke, he only got angrier and would kick or punch me. I knew that this was not right, and that I was in big trouble, but did nothing but curl into a ball and whimper as he continued his assault. Eventually he calmed down and told me to go to my room. I figured that he was going through some one time only phase that I had caused, making me feel as if I deserved this kind of treatment.

This went on for several days, eventually making me wish that I could rid myself of this pain; wish that I was not even alive. I started to wonder if I really was worthless.

Soon, I realized that I was causing' the problem, and because I could not go back to school, I was around my abusive parent twenty-four seven. I looked up several helpful resources in the phone book, but when I tried to call, my father cut the telephone wire and threw away the phone book, then hit me again. By now he had started to use items against me; a rolling pin, a knife, a nail gun at one point. Whenever I went outside, people would question about my wounds, but knowing what my father would do if he found out, I dismissed it or told people that my pet cat had hurt me.

I of course had no such pet cat, and my father knew it. Eventually, he would hurt me even if I had done nothing. I realized by now that if I could escape from the pain, maybe I would feel better. I soon became very depressed and angry at myself, until one night when I noticed a carving knife on my floor. Maybe, I thought, if I hurt myself, my father would stop hurting me.

The nights went by, and eventually my father wondered about the strange cuts on my wrists and arms. I told them that I had cut myself on a knife while making dinner one night, but he did not believe me and preceded to hurt me again. That night I again slashed my wrists, watching blood fall to the floor, and felt that maybe if I could remind myself that I was still living, I could live.

None of this helped. I soon began to wonder if I was the problem. Problems, I thought, needed to be removed. I knew that I couldn't stay in my own home anymore. I knew I was better off on my own.

_An abusive father….. wow, I am evil…. And a nail gun, too…… flicks on flashlight, holds to face in menacing way ….Mwahahahaha….._


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I am in no way associated, a part of, with, or an affiliate of VFD, but I do own this fanfic._

Chapter three

After packing a few of my things and my meager allowance in my suitcase, fashioning a makeshift rope out of my bedsheets, tying this rope to my bed, and clambering out of my third-story window, I hopped the fence in my backyard and set out down several streets I knew until I became lost. On one street, I noticed a small, dangerous-looking abandoned building and figured that it was as good a place as any to set up camp. After making sure that the house was not scheduled for demolition and busting down the back door, I laid a small blanket and couch pillow on the dusty floor and set my clothes next to it, then, clutching my prized teddy bear named Pookie, I laid down to rest as well.

The next morning, I went into a gas station near the abandoned building and bought a liter of soda, a large jug of drinking water, some beef jerky, and a box of doughnuts. I had planned to have half of a doughnut for breakfast, along with a small cup of soda to get my energy up. For my lunch, I would have some beef jerky, and I planned to entirely skip dinner, because I wasn't much of a dinner person. I then realized that, in case I needed to do some strenuous work, I should also get a bottle of kiwi-watermelon sports drink, to keep myself hydrated and keep my electrolytes at a decent level.

The sports drink came in handy a week later when I realized that I was beginning to run low on money. I decided to work at the docks not too far from the old abandoned shack in which I was living, in order to make at least enough money to get food. Later, I realized that two meals a day simply was not going to cut it, because I was beginning to run low on foodstuffs as well. I then decided to cut breakfast entirely and just have a glass of water, then have lunch, then water for dinner; I had long ago run out of my favorite brand of soda. When I got to the docks, the men there asked if I knew how to operate machinery. I told them that I did, and they employed me as the assistant in charge of the crane.

This process of going to work at the docks every day of the week proved worthy, because when I explained that 1 had run away because my father had treated me horribly, they shared their pastrami on rye or nectarines with me for lunch, and this was welcome news, because by now I had run out of food, and had only the jug of water left.

This type of thing went on for several days, until one night when 1 was alone, and it was the most terrifying night of my life. I remember that it was around midnight, and I had heard a noise like the dropping of a very large, very heavy piece of metal. I went to the window to investigate, and saw a large black limo-like car with tinted windows, so I could not see the person inside. I ducked down and gasped, thinking that it was a robber. I figured that if 1 pretended to be asleep, the burglar wouldn't hurt me. But then again, I was a fourteen-year-old kid living in a broken-down, abandoned house with only a few possessions to my name; none of them were valuable; who would want to steal my things? Never-the-less, I was still very scared, so I quickly scrambled over to my cot and pretended to sleep.

The next thing I knew, I heard a large crunching sound, like wood being broken, and I peeked to see what was going on. A man, dressed in a large trenchcoat and a derby, looked around the room. I never saw what his face looked like; it was too dark to see it, but I could tell that he was looking at me and was coming straight at me.

By now, I was horribly frightened. This man, I was sure of it, was going to kidnap me! My father wouldn't even care, and I wasn't quite sure if my mother was even alive and well. I trembled as the mysterious person drew near, and now more than ever wished that I had someone to comfort me.

As soon as the man brushed against me, I yelped and opened my eyes. He told me that he wasn't going to hurt me, and then he shushed me. I was still scared, of course, but 1 felt that he was speaking the truth as he grabbed both of my ankles and dragged me outside. This was not a pleasant way to travel, but other than getting myself bashed around, I didn't think that I was in any serious trouble. As he opened the car and lifted me into it, I again felt nervous, realizing that getting into a car with a person you don't know is very dangerous, although this man did not have an aura of menace. As we drove off, and as I watched the abandoned building that had been my home for so long fade from view, I wondered where I was going, and what was to become of me when I got there.

_(sing-song) Someone's getting recruited….. _U


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Uhhhh…. I STILL don't own these books, no matter how much I want to….._

Chapter four

As the car continued to drive, and as the countryside rolled past, I noticed that there was a small carving of an eye on the door handle. I asked the driver why this was so. He told me that it was the mark of their organization. I asked why they had chosen that symbol, and he responded by saying that it meant that they watched over the land for trouble, specifically fires.

I then asked about where I was being taken. The man responded that he could not tell me yet and that I would have to wait and see. I asked who he was, and he told me that his name was not important; agents called each other by their first initial, and then introduced himself as 'L'. I asked if these 'agents' did other things besides put out fires, and he responded by chuckling and saying, once again, that I would understand later. I was silent for the rest of the half-hour long drive.

As the mysterious man had said, I saw what was going on when I got there. We were in front of a massive marble mansion, with green accent door and window frames. The doors were neatly polished, and embroidered on the front of them was the same eye symbol that I had noticed in the car.

The man asked me what I thought of the building, and I was so stunned by the beauty of it that I could not even imagine. The man lead me out of the car and inside the building, and the inside was as wonderful as the outside. The floors were polished and neat, there was a golden fountain inside it, several mahogany doors, a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, what appeared to be several floors, and a large stone arch embedded in the opposite wall. As I glanced around and explored this marvelous place, I noticed that etched into the arch was a sentence that read "The World is Quiet Here". I asked the man who had taken me here what it meant. He said that it was their slogan for their library, and he opened the large mahogany doors to reveal just that - a library, and a massive one at that. He explained that it was for both recreation and research, and that I could visit it whenever I chose. He then lead me to a small door in the corner and explained that I needed to go through a thorough examination of health, like at the doctor's office, and lead me through it.

Inside, like he had said, I was examined for health, and when the doctor questioned about my scrapes and bruises, I explained that I had abusive parents. The doctor told me that I was going to be safe from now on, then told me that I qualified for volunteer work and needed to have a special mark on my ankle to let other agents know that I was one of them. He drew out a needle, making me frightened, because at that time I was still a bit scared of needles. After pulling out some numbing solution, I realized that it wasn't going to hurt that much, then became slightly scared when he snapped a cartridge of blue dye into something that looked like a gun. After snapping the needle on, I realized that he was preparing to tattoo my ankle. This got me questioning if I would be all right throughout the one-minute process of numbing the area, then doodling an eye on it with the needle-gun thing, then putting some sort of patch over it so my skin could heal. He chatted with me and said that I would be fine, and then he released me and I walked, with some limping, back to the main lobby and sat down.

I saw another kid my age, sitting on a bench near me and holding his hands behind his back. I noticed that he looked rather sad, and I asked if he was all right. He sighed and said no, so I asked him why. He lifted his hands and showed me that his hands were actually hooks, then explained that he had lost them in a mission involving sharks. I felt sorry for him, but asked if he wanted to be friends. He looked delighted, then told me that not many people wanted to be friends with him because of his condition and introduced himself as 'F'. I smiled and understood perfectly; not many people liked me either. Inside I felt ecstatic; I had never had a friend before, and I wasn't sure what it would be like. It seemed like it was Christmas and I was opening a present to find something I had wanted for a very long time. It seemed that, maybe, my world might just get a little better.

_Reviews are much needed….._


	6. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Uhm, McDonald's ish Geeeewd……_

Chapter five

Over the years I was trained diligently in the various tasks that all Volunteers needed to know, such as disguises, make-up, spy work, and also rescue-response and CPR. Soon I had risen through the ranks and had become a top agent, along with my older friend L. By now most people referred to me as O, even my friend with the hook. By now I had made several friends that were outcasts like myself, and was one of the most popular people on campus.

My missions soon became increasingly more and more difficult, ranging from obtaining lost cats that had found themselves stranded in a tree to undercover work in various restraunts. However, as I was soon to find out, my biggest challenge was yet to come.

It was a Friday evening, and my friends and I were sitting down to dinner. F had started eating, and five minutes later I noticed that something was wrong. He appeared to be choking. Because most of my friends were not as high on the agent ladder as I was, they had no clue what to do, but thankfully, because I knew CPR, I was able to save my best friend's life.

Later that evening, we had decided to have a small bonfire in order to celebrate the nice summer weather. We had roasted marshmallows and s'mores, and were chatting quietly amongst ourselves. I was looking at the fire intently and started to wonder to myself "Why do we fight fires and then celebrate by setting them?"

I broke the quiet by asking L this question. He told me that we celebrated with bonfires because it was tradition and because we could contain these fires, then said that we fought fires because they were destructive. 1 told them that forest fires were actually good because they cleared out dead wood so new things could grow. This discussion caused a very heated debate between my close friends and the other members.

I realized eventually that L was wrong to say that fires were destructive. He was wrong to fight them, because like scavengers and predators, they weeded out the sick and old in order to make way for newer things. They nipped bad seeds in the bud and kept the world clean. I gathered my friends and ran away from VFD that night, and I did go back, but only to rid the world of this disease that had lied to me and would most likely lie to others. I took it as my solemn vow to get rid of this poison that threatened to overtake the world. And I shunned my old identity and obtained a new one; one that I hoped would strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. That night, I, the young Olaf that so many people had known, became the VFD's worst enemy. That night I became Count Olaf.

_Wow, this is getting hectic…. Please review and stick around for Da prologue!_


	7. Epilouge

_It's da last chappie, y'all!_

_Disclaimer: Uhm, French Fries are Gewd!_

Epilogue

I rambled around with my comrades for several months, searching out the people I had despised since high school. I looked for my old home and visited my father. I entered and asked him how life had been in the same tone he had used when I was young and had been expelled from school. He told me that he was sorry for what he did, and I did not buy it ffor one second. I became angry and hit him. I told him it was punishment for what he had done to me, and I discontinued because I did not want to hurt him too much. I left the house, but before I went to another area I threw a lit match at it. I drove off as the flames spread throughout the home. I torched several other places, including the school that had shunned me and the abandoned building before moving oh to the VFD headquarters. I chipped a small piece of marble from the wall and torched it as well.

The next day I drove by the house of some old family friends, the Baudelaires. I peered in the window at the children inside and quckly became jealous; why should they have such a perfect life when mine had been so miserable? I watched as the children exited the house, first an older girl with a young baby and then a boy who was a bit younger than the girl. They boarded a trolley and left as I snuck around back and torched their home.

A few days later I found a house and settled in. That night I recieved a phone call from some banker; I think his name was Mr. Pope or something like that. He told me that he had heard about the Baudelaire fire and was taking the children to live with me. He told me that he would be in charge of their parent's fortune until the eldest child came of age. I realized the things I could do with that amount of money and agreed to adopt the children. He agreed and I smiled. Everything was going according to plan.

To this day I do not know if the Baudelaire parents survived the fire, but if they did, I will find them. The children are now with some Kit girl, whom I am not familiar with, but as I drive this car towards the last remaining VFD headquarters in the world, I can tell you one thing, and that one thing is this: my life has not been a pleasent one, but I will find a way to make it up. I refuse to live a life filled with this much despair again. I am not just a villain, I am a person, and somehow, somewhere, I will find a way to break the chain of unfortunate events that is my life.

_Did y'all like my mixed-up, crazy little fanfic?_

_I'm sorry to say that my work on the case of the three Fenton Orphans is nearing compleation as we speak. I am only telling you about this woeful epic to warn you not to read my upcoming "Series of Paranormal Events", soon to appear on I would not recommend that you look forward to this, and I sincerely hope that you do not attempt to read it. Sadly, there will be four base coverings of this terrible tale. Do not click on the link below for more information:_

_http/ Snicket_

_With all due respect,_

_Sugary Snicket_


End file.
